


Lion Tamer

by Sinstigator



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Sensory Deprivation, an attempt at hot and cold play, but who wouldn't want to tame this lion, no real plot, sub Rein, young!rein
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 02:18:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13672209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinstigator/pseuds/Sinstigator
Summary: Reinhardt had already made quite the name for himself, even before coming to Overwatch. A fierce warrior and dependable teammate. But, the expectations are staggering. And even he needs some time to be cared for





	Lion Tamer

You weren’t sure how this whole situation developed into what it was now, you were just part of HR staff that managed to get lucky. Everyone knew the man, how could they not? His boisterous voice as he told wonderfully woven war stories from a time long ago. His large, chiseled, muscular frame that pressed up against you in a joyous hug when the alcohol flowed a little too much. 

How could they not know of the man?

But you knew a secret about him. A secret that would never make its way past your lips. What they didn’t know was how he would come to you during his days off from Overwatch. They didn’t know how much the man needed a distraction from the horrors of his life; a distraction from the sorrow that had wrapped itself tight like a vice around his throat. He needed it, he begged as he showed you his moment of weakness.

And you gave it to him. 

Even now as you stared at the man before you, you couldn’t help but wonder how you’d gotten into this situation. How he had managed to know that you harbored feelings for this--that you would even agree to this.

And yet, here you were, rummaging through the drawer of your nightstand as the man in question sat on the floor of your room, back pressed against your bed. His arms were bound to the bulky metal frame with a pair of extra sheets. The fabric knotted numerous times, and yet, it was easy to see that it wouldn’t be nearly enough to hold him if he decided he wanted out. Honestly, you weren’t sure that there was much on this planet that could stop a rampaging crusader outside of a heavy duty tranquilizer.

But, for now, your knight was as tame as could be. Head leaning back against the soft mattress, hands relaxed and half open, thick legs splayed wide along the floor. It was a shame that the blindfold had already been tied tight across his skull. You already missed the sight of those bright blue eyes watching you as you moved about your room. Silently watching you as you tied him down. Now the only proof of Reinhardt’s excitement was the quickened rise and fall of his chest. 

“Ready?” It always surprises you how easily the change comes over you, voice dipping low as you move to stand between Reinhardt’s legs, earplugs held loosely between your fingers. You surprise yourself, and he always surprises you with a groan so powerful his entire body seems to sag.

“Please….yes.” His hands clench and unclench at your words, working the tension from his fingers as he hears you approach. 

You stand off on his right side, cupping the crusader’s chin with one hand as you put the earplugs in with the other. Pausing momentarily to whisper into the male’s ear. “You remember what to do if you need me to take them out?”

Reinhardt nods, voice low as he tilts his head towards your voice, “I won’t need to.”

“But, you remember it?” You ask. Fingers traveling across his jaw to wind their way into the blonde tresses gathered on his shoulder. You twist the locks around your fingers, pegging Reinhardt with a look you know he can’t see.

But, the sudden authority in your voice isn’t missed by the man tied to your bed. He stiffens, breath hitching as he nods once more. Words dying in his throat. 

You frown at his lack of vocal reply, thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “Say it.”

Reinhardt swallows hard, taking a moment to find his voice before replying slowly. “I haven’t forgotten.” 

“Good, I’m so proud of you.” A shudder runs through his large form as you coo at him and you slip the other earplug in place. 

A second passes, then another. Time bleeding away just like the tension in the crusader’s limbs. He sags against the bed frame, mouth falling open with a groan. This is what he’d been aching for. Why he sought you out, time and time again.

There weren’t many who could cause one such as him to submit to their will so easily. And yet you did it without so much as batting an eyelash. It was adorable, how quickly Reinhardt’s demeanor shifted as soon as those earplugs were in place. Becoming pliant, almost putty in your hands.

And you spoiled him, there was no denying it. Hands roaming over his massive form, kneading the taught and tired muscles to the sound of his breathless groans. He can’t hear the way you croon at him, nor can he see the hungry way your eyes roam over his form. 

But, he can still feel you, and that is his downfall. The way your fingers splay over the wide bridge of his shoulders, nails biting into the flesh through the fabric of his shirt. How your body bends against his, lithe and warm as you settle yourself on his lap. And the warmth of your breath on his chin as your lips skim across his flesh.

He turns his head, searching for that familiar press of your lips with his own. Frustration bleeding into a whimper when he comes up empty again and again. Spared the sight of your wicked grin that overtakes your lips as you evade his once more before shifting your attention to the wide expanse of his chest. Tugging the thick black turtleneck up just enough to slip you hungry digits beneath the fabric.

The way his moan dies in his throat when your hands meet the heated flesh of his abdomen has desire pooling in your belly. Molten lust shooting through your veins with every pump of your heart. A whine of your name tumbling from his lips. Reinhardt jerks, arms pulling against the restraints that keep him from his target.

That keep him from touching you.

And just as quick, you move away. Rising back up onto your feet with a hum, turning to the dresser behind you. Your gaze shifts between the two items resting on the smooth wooden surface, turning the idea of which to use first over in your mind.

Behind you Reinhardt shifts, taking note of your absence. Anticipation running rampant within the confines of his mind. Wondering if you were still in the room, simply watching him from a seat somewhere. Enjoying the picture of him all laid out before you like some sort of offering--A feast to be devoured.

And devour him you would.

You grab both, wheeling around before kneeling at the crusader’s side once more before setting both glasses off to the side so they wouldn’t be in danger of being knocked over should things get a little….rowdy. One filled to the brim with steaming water, while the other holds a handful of ice cubes.

Slowly, you reach over and undo the button on his jeans, chuckling as he starts, chest swelling with the breath he sucks in through parted lips. Boots scraping against the floor as he shifts. Unsure of whether he should stay put or give in to his own desires. “Must you... always tease me?”

You grin, worrying your lip between your teeth as you don’t bother replying. Focusing instead on tugging down the straining zipper. His boxers aren’t any better off, material pulled taut from the heavy weight of his cock-- dark, wet patch staining the front of his boxers that clearly labels where the head of his cock was trapped against the material. 

Reinhardt inhales sharply as your fingers slip within the confines of his boxers, chest shuddering. The flesh of his cock hot against your palm, swollen and tacky with precum. Hands curling into powerful fists as your head dips down, lips brushing against his length. 

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, words held dear to his heart that he’s loathe to share with anyone else. Body shuddering as your fingers run his length and you pay particular attention to the pulsing vein near the base of his cock.

Reinhardt shifts, pushing his legs further apart as a whine forces its way through clenched teeth. Pleasure licks at his spine, and he can only imagine what you look like between his thighs. The mere thought enough to have him tugging at the restraints. Fraying the threads with just his own strength. Chest heaving, cock swelling against your lips. 

He’s close, dangling dangerously on the edge of his release.

So the harsh bite of ice against the heated flesh of his cock tears a surprised shout from Reinhardt’s lips, and he jolts away from you. Large form shaking as his brain tries to make sense of the conflicting sensations. Your tongue, hot and wet against the head of his cock, and the freezing kiss of ice on his shaft.

“A-Ah! Please! Please—just let me!” Sweat beads on his forehead, gold tresses matted and clinging to his face. Hips jerking up and off the floor as he fought against your hold. And you follow him, cruel as ever, keeping the pressure on him. Tongue swirling around his glans, the salty taste of precum filling your mouth. 

Too soon, you find the ice melting, leaving behind chilled fingers and flesh. Hands-free, you reach off to the side and grab the second glass, letting his cock slip free from your lips with a pop that has the crusader shuddering. And you down the contents of the glass in one smooth motion. 

The contrast of the hot liquid hitting the back of your throat and spreading throughout your chest and the chill of your fingers is delicious. But, you don’t have time to sit and enjoy it for yourself. No, you’re not done yet. 

You’re back on him in a flash, jaw stretched wide to accommodate the girth of Reinhardt’s cock. Wrapping your fingers around the base when the tip brushes the back of your throat and you know you can’t take anymore. Chilled fingers cupping his balls as you greedily suck him off. The obscene sounds filling the small space that is your room.

And the crusader doesn’t simply howl, he bellows. Whole body seizing as the hot cavern of your mouth draws him over the precipice without any regard for the noise he might make. The screech of metal barely audible over the sound of his groans. And still you don’t stop, swallowing the seed he spills without batting an eyelash. 

You don’t release him until he sags against the bed, boneless and pliant; even with you still sucking on his cock. Spent, and unable to tear you away from the over sensitive length even if he’d wanted to. To his left, your metal headboard groans, a hand-sized dent bent into one of its metal rods. Warping it almost beyond recognition.

He looks like the very picture of a lion, mane of gold splayed out behind him and over his shoulders, strong body splayed wide. He controls the space without even trying, and yet. you’re able to bring the young knight to his knees.


End file.
